French Laundry--Napa Valley

707.944.2380

Holy shit.  Where do I begin?

So went with the ol' wifey wife, her sister and husband participating in said husbands' scratching off a bucket list item.  I was a tagalong.  And to be honest, I had no idea what to expect.  I've been to Frenchette, and 11 Madison, and as well as other gastronomically credentialed places all over NYC (see restaurant list), so part of me had my NY snob-o-meter dialed up.  However, another part of me was actually a bit curious and trepidatious of being simply too over my skis on this one.

How was the food you inevitably ask me after my longwinded intro? Spectacular.  However, this was only a mere component of arguably one of the best, if not the best dining experience of my life. Here's the dinner menu in its entirety as they hand it to you when you leave:

• Oysters and Pearls
• Bitter Garden Chicory Salad
• Sweet Butter Poached Nova Scotia Lobster
• Bread and Butter
• Applewod Smoked Wolfe Ranch White Quail
• Carnaroli Risotto Biologico
• Prime Rib of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb
• Gougere
• Caramelized K & J Orchards Sour Apple
• Hojicha Tea Ice Cream
• K & M Rogher
• Mignardises

There were some truffle and Wagyu beef options that other people tried, but not for me.  So aside from the abundance, the care and craft of the food, the wine pairing and service were equally unparalleled.  And perhaps that is why I'm still rock hard about this place weeks later. Alex, our front waiter and de facto sommelier was exemplary (he confessed he started working there after learning all he could at Charlie Trotter's!  Ha!) both in terms of breadth of knowledge but also affability.  The back waiters were personable not pushy.  Tod the maitre d'hotel took us on a personal tour.  Chris talked about fish forks.  There was wine poured when we arrived, even before water, and we drank the entire night.

Perhaps most amazing, however, is that I saw Alex keeping his distance from the romantic couple, and dumbing down his delivery to the status seekers that were their simply for cache. He knew that Husband wanted to talk shop, he recognized that my wine selections for the pairing (they paired wines not to the food but to our tastes first and then the food) were too expensive for our budget, so got close with what we could afford, and saw that my wife basically wanted to be left alone to dine so laid off the flirtatiousness.

Lights out.  Nothing more I could add to make it better.

Atoboy--Manhattan

646.476.7217

The 2nd wife's other husband loves this place.  It's gourmet, interesting (Korean if I had to guess) and rather hard to get into.  I don't see what the hubbub is about, but interesting is definitely the case.  

Before I go on about the $40 chicken boneless chicken wings, I will say that they took the whole service ninja thing to the umpteenth level.  And for no good reason as they didn't quite execute.  I understand the whole back-waiter, front-waiter system can be elegant and allow for a coverage that a single server can't.  But when each server that walks up doesn't know what we are drinking (and we're clearly empty), and doesn't know who ordered what (as we ordered the entire menu), and solicits us for jobs because they overheard us talking and deduced we were "in the industry,"  the whole cover gets blown.

Run on sentences aside, how was the food?  Solid according to my spouses that eat Korean food.  Not that it isn't for me, but when you have absolutely no idea what it is you're being served, it's less about meeting an expectation and more about creating one.  According to them it was delectable.  According to me it was weird.  The fried chicken was fine, but incredibly expensive. I mean, they have to carry that service overhead somehow. 

Balthazar--Manhattan

212.965.141

I know, how the hell have I lived in the city for so long and not gone here? Schiller's?  Check. Pastilles? Check.  Both closed (though one was brought back to life).  So for my 28th birthday I decided to take the team here, hoping to capture the experience in hopes of not being Peter Luggered.

Did they deliver? You bet.  However, I need to provide some context here.  In spite of their excellent service and food, this place in July is a huge-ass sprawling tourist restaurant.  Tourist that are "in the know," but still fanny packing around with their walking sneakers and bored children in tow.  When we made the rezzie we were given a firm two hour time so they could turn the table.  This is clearly not enough time for us, as we booze and generally the other wife orders like sixty things from the menu.

So to get around this I opted for outside dining. In 100 degree heat. It was hot, too hot. Since I was coming from work there was a suit involved.  A summer suit, but who fucking cares.  Nonetheless, we did our best and ate and drank and the staff was lovely and we spent way too much but the heat, the underlying pervasiveness of the heat greatly impacted the experience.  We hit the major stuff, the raw bar tower, some Sancerre, tar tar, fish and mussels, and of course some bread.  I must say this was not a Peter Luger experience, so those dorky Northern Europeans (who needs walking sticks, really?) were on to something.  

Morris Motel--Manhattan

646.480.4810

Went here for the ol' wifey wife's birthday.  It's a quaint cute little kitzch place in Chelsey, gay but not too gay, cute but not too cute, with an angle that it's like a 50's era motel.  They pull off the decor, and though the food wasn't an epiphany, it was an interesting mix of American continental.  All the staff were Irish and they had some pretty cool tee-shirts that my wifey wife decided to buy, then not buy, then buy again.

Not a lot of fan fair on this one.  The lasagna chips were interesting, but my mind wasn't blown, but conversely if you're in the neighborhood this is a safe bet to leave relatively satisfied for the value.

Rezdora--Manhattan

646-692-9090

Went here for the other wife's birthday.  She had always wanted to go and is buddies with a former chef.  This is on concert with her habit of dragging me to Michelin star rated restaurants, and once again, I thought we were in for a treat.  To be honest it fell a little flat, as though they were resting on their laurels.  The place is tiny, and has some sort of off-the-books residential dining area as both guests and staff come marching down the huge brownstone stairs.  Not really my business, but interesting due to its total illegality.

We sat outside and since we had no rezzie (they're impossible to get) we watched the little railroad restaurant fill up.  A few interesting points: 1) I was the first to arrive, and they tray passed chilled Lambrusco before they opened which I thought was a very nice touch.  2) The waiter was very intent on pronouncing every Italian word perfectly, which made her sound like a news caster in SoCal, effortlessly switching from dumb American accent to perfect Italian accent--it was unnecessary and kind of lame.  3) There was a woman who kept changing into skin-tight yoga pants and putting her fanny on parade coming out of said brownstone.  She kept walking her dog, and though it has nothing to do with the restaurant, I feel it was definitely noteworthy.  I mean, she really flashed her beaver.

The food?  Honestly, hit or miss.  You better like cheese and ham, or you're not going to try half the menu.  The portions were small except for the big ass breaded, pounded, prosciutto Milanese thing that we devoured.  Additionally, after we paid we decided to have another drink and Miss Italian language couldn't be found for like ten minutes.  Finish the cover bitch!  Not sure how this garnered a Michelin star, but what the fuck do I know?

Indian Accent--Manhattan

 

212.842.8070

Not a big fan of Indian food, but if you're gonna try it, this place is a safe bet.  It's super upscale compared to Indian row in the East Village, so it's quite a different experience.  The service is impeccable, and even though it's smack in the middle of Midtown it is sort of off the beaten path.  We met some old friends that were warming up their palate for a trip to India and the Himalaya.  It turns out this place's original sibling is in New Delhi--which was part of the master plan of said friends.

The Food?  Decidedly Indian.  A swirl of unique flavors with heavy vegetarian and seafood influence.  We endeavored the tasting menu and probably covered just about everything.  The ol' wifey wife doesn't like lamb, so that eliminated quite a few dishes. The Phuka was phenomenal, as was the Salmon and Scallops.  But the chocolate tart, by and far was the winner of this dinner.  I mean, it was absolutely perfect.

Otherwise, it was Indian food.  I'm no expert, so I cannot differentiate between good Indian and bad Indian save food poisoning.  The flavor profile is so foreign to my bland, white bread way of life that I'm happy I left full and satsified.

Gramercy Tavern--Manhattan (again)

212.477.0777

Don't be fooled by the $165 prefix.  They kill you on the booze.  Super simple ploy, really, but one look at their incredibly expansive and expensive wine by the bottle will tell you you're not escaping dinner for less than $300 a head unless you stick to water.

This was our second go around here.  Food and service was as good as ever, though the service ninjas were in full effect.  You get two choices per course, and the portions are just so you don't leave hungry, though you're hungry for more--if that makes any sense.

But if you wanna have a bottle or two of wine with this, you may want to open a Heloc.  Not to mention starting with a Boulevardier and finishing with a Sauternes.  Yeesh.

House of Mac--Miami

786.636.6967

Bailed on a family adventure to take a lazy few days in Miami with the whole fam.  Let me tell you, a great move.  Miami is like if Venice and Summer in Williamsburg had a gay baby.  Loved it.

I know, I know, but House of Mac is in this neighborhood Wynwood, which is a bunch of low cement buildings with graffiti and design stores everywhere.  It really brought me back.  It also had a Mac and cheese joint that would put Dumont to shame (RIP Collin).  

Seriously, the Mac and Cheese offered something for everyone, was super tasty--delivered in cast iron pans-- and was pretty inexpensive.  Oddly, the whole shebang was app based, so we sort of ordered a la Shakeshack by a QR code, and then they ran the food out.  As we were there for lunch on a Thursday in the dead of February, the dude behind the counter was great answering questions so it could have been a disaster if I was six beers in.  But since I was with the wee ones and the ol' wifey wife--no big deal.

Definitely try the traditional, and the jerk.  

Word

Francie Williamsburg

 

718.218.7572

Holy Shit!

This place rules.  Where did it come from?  WTF? Went here with Glasserie Events as a thank you.  Man oh man, did they deliver.  I cannot gush about this place enough.

Food?  Exceptional.  Some odd ball stuff (sweet potato in puff pastry?) but we ordered the huge as steak and it came out with baby's breath and I nearly shit myself.  Fantastic wine, fantastic food, all of the staff was young and hip and beautiful, I mean, just top notch.

As an odd post script we then scuttled over to Diner and it was sad and dark and empty.  I remember a day when that place was the center of the universe, and now it seemed so ordinary and lifeless compared to where we'd just come.